


have a round on me love, hallelujah, nobody wins.

by nobodysdarlin



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt, Kind of fluffy, Love, Strippers, chuice - Freeform, here's some love for you, i haven't slept in 4 days, it's tax season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 08:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodysdarlin/pseuds/nobodysdarlin
Summary: a stripper challenges Chibs and he has a very quick and very deep inner memory monologue.





	have a round on me love, hallelujah, nobody wins.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for anyone who reads any of this drabble. my insomnia is so terrible this time of year i literally just write and write and write nonsense at 2am and try to find the gold in it somewhere. hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing.

"What type of man are you?" The words hit Chibs in the face.

He was under all 130lbs of a stripper at Happy's birthday, and he'd lifted her off as she tried to tug up his shirt. She looked shocked, and spit the question in his face. He shrugged her away and told her "Not yours tonight, love." as he pulled his beer.

It had nothing to do with the type of man he was or wasn't. It came down only to a question of desire and wants and needs and pure carnal neglect and found love and blood types and bite marks and crude oil and the way sweat could become abrasive to the skin due to so much friction and the salt it contained. Road rash was one thing but a scrubbed raw chest from fucking shirtless and Juice's shaved chest against his would cut him senseless. It was an entirely different sensation, being face to face with a man. There weren't tits to cushion you, even if they were small, they were still soft. A man's chest was hard, had a chest plate without protection, and it could knock the wind out of you in missionary if you were so far gone that you forgot about the fucking chest plate.

Chibs would grasp Juice underneath his shoulders, wrists curled over and cupping the back of his neck. They'd almost fold over each other into one. It was a closeness he'd never experienced.It wasn't something a woman had ever given him. To be fair, it was only something he'd experienced with Juice.

But that fucking burn would sting only when he'd caught a glimpse of it in the mirror while he was washing up after, the sting searing as soon as his eyes connected with it in the mirror, his brain firing off a delayed response.

His reflection had stared back at him. Gray around his temples. Small chest still heaving from the circus that had gone on between the two of them, the war their bodies raged knowing only either tender, gentle exploration or sheer chaos, assaulting all senses and destroying all boundaries usually found between people that love and respect each other.

He wasn't used to the red face that met him, the tired eyes that were small and heavy lidded, sunken back in his skull. He wasn't one to focus on his own looks. But the round eyes stared at him, and so he stared back. He marveled at his hooded lids, his heart shaped face that tapered down to a goatee he now always sported. Age had been fine to him. It was gravity that was the bitch. His scars had slowly started to stop supporting his cheeks, the dead muscle and nerves behind them starting to hang lower than they had when they were newer. It only made him look constantly angry. His hair had begun to go white at the roots, the salt and pepper he'd been sporting the last decade slowly ebbing.

Juice had walked in at this point to catch his old man marveling at himself, jeans still slung low and unbuckled, shirt off, breathing back to normal. He walked behind him and pinched his shoulders, rubbing his face between the blades in front of him.

He grunted in response, a subtle sign of content.

"You look good babe." Juice said, peeking out around Chibs' arm now so that he could see what Chibs was seeing.

Chibs raised his chin slightly, squaring his stance out, lower jaw shifting forward slightly in a smug position.

"Aye, we sure do."

Back in his present, chest still rubbed raw and not wanting to have it exposed to a room full of his brothers and blow his very private life; half naked girl still staring at him incredulously, trying to hide her rejection behind anger.

Chibs reached out, face softening, repeating "Not yours tonight, love."


End file.
